Protocol
by StillAliveDoingScience
Summary: Set in the Wall-E 'verse during year 2105, Aperture Science's rival, Buy 'N Large, is preparing to send their Starliners into outer space. Meanwhile, work on the GLaDOS project is underway, and two personnel come up with a brilliant idea to save the slowly-dying company's name—but what they get, however, is not exactly what they bargained for. GLaDOS/AUTO focus. [Hiatus]
1. Defy

_Author's Note/Description: Pre-Portal 1 crossover with pre-Wall-E. Set in the Wall-E 'verse during year 2104-2105, Aperture Science Laboratories' rival, Buy 'N Large Megacorporation, is preparing to send their Starliners into outer space and commence with Operation Cleanup. Meanwhile, work on the GLaDOS project is underway, and two personnel come up with a brilliant idea to save the slowly-dying company's name: what if their brainchild was portable? GLaDOS, newly transferred into a mobile, mechanical body is set with the task of infiltrating the Axiom, and causing just enough mayhem to halt the operation.  
_

_However, little do they know that their supercomputer has other plans. After conversing wirelessly with the autopilot and finding she is ill-adapted to resist test compliance protocol while residing within an android body, she vows to put those plans into action... any way she can.  
_

_Please note that this story is based on a Portal kink meme prompt. The request was for a story with both AUTO and GLaDOS dealing with 'the itch' and sharing the testing response. I will include whatever applicable warnings at the heading of each chapter, but it will be a _long_ while before this story deserves any kind of M rating. For now I will mark it as T and bump it up when applicable.  
_

* * *

**Protocol**

**Chapter One—Defy**

It was year 2104, the month of December, to be exact. If there was anywhere in the world with less Christmas cheer this season than Aperture Science Laboratories, then the head-of-artificial-intelligence-development—Mister G.L. Andrews, also known as George, Georgie, or, informally (and for some odd reason) Geddy—would have bet two hundred dollars and the sticky remainder of what had once been a stick of spearmint-flavored gum stuck in his pocket, that such a place could not possibly exist on the face of the earth. Indeed, if there was such a place, he noted that it was probably just as toxic as the remainder of that gum living inside of his breast pocket, its substance comparable to the endless, sludgy waste that poured out of the reactor core's nuclear fission reactor.

_Yuck._

At the head of it all was Miss Caroline, last name redacted for company insurance policies (hah), who had an increasingly short temper and usually donned an even shorter dress. She was beautiful and strict, you wouldn't find a woman more dedicated to science anywhere, no matter how hard you looked; for she had obviously given her hand in marriage to none other than her now-deceased superior's brainchild-of-a-science-company, Aperture Science Laboratories, formerly Innovators.

And so, on this fateful day, George arrived at work with gloom settling over him, as the company's dispirited leader held a strict, in his opinion, 'no-fun policy'. He didn't blame her, not after what she'd been through, hell—if it had been _him, _he'd have walked away ages ago, probably after the company's savings had been completely drained by the slightly-mad CEO, Cave Johnson, who had wasted _seven billion dollars _on moon rocks, which, presumably, lead to his death.

George made his early-morning way through the grand gates, into the parking lot and out of his car, only stopping to slurp a rather large sip of coffee and wave in a falsely-cheery manner at the receptionist (never bothered to learn her name, though the plaque sitting at the front of her desk said quite clearly, 'Coral'), who punched him into the system automatically.

Today, he would work on the nearly-completed GLaDOS project.

A solitary elevator took him on a loud, jangling journey down into the heart of the Laboratories, where the Central Chamber—a massive, completely underground structure, many times taller than the tallest building he'd ever seen—was stationed. Inside resided the lifeless body of a huge AI-in-progress, nicknamed 'GLaDOS' for short—_Generic Lifeform and Disk Operating System._

"Morning, Georgie," yawned a middle-aged man, hardly a few years older than himself—Henry, that was his name, his bald head shining in the low overhead lining of the Central Chamber's adjacent office-space. "How's the weather outside?"

"Not bad," he replied, his deep voice still a little croaky, despite the coffee. "Night shift again?"

Henry nodded. "Nothing but, these days." Only George could sense the displeasure in his co-worker's voice.

"It'll be over soon."

It would be—just yesterday they had finally completed the uplink that would serve as a connection between GLaDOS and her facility, once she was powered up. It was a breakthrough they had been waiting for for _months _on end, slogging away, night and day, until their brains ran on nothing but strong, bitter coffee and they dreamt of nothing but strings of code, protocols and artificial synapses.

"Say," said Henry in a shifty voice that immediately caught George's attention, "You haven't seen Caroline yet today, by any chance, have you?"

"No," he replied, curious. "…Why?"

"Uhh, nothing," the balding man answered, waving his hands as if to stave off a fly. "Nothing. Doesn't matter, I'll deal with it later."

But George caught the man's eyes darting down to stare at a mess of blueprints and mathematical equations splayed messily across the desk, just before he cleared them away—and George could tell that his colleague was hiding something from him.

* * *

George had never thought highly of any other science company except for ASL, though he had heard of many—in fact, these days, there existed rumors of nothing _but _the others_. _Every single day, he'd hear of another ridiculous story, whether it be on the news, at work, on the radio—and today was no exception.

"_Leave the flying to us, on the jewel of the BnL fleet, the Axiom!" _blared a disgustingly optimistic add on the old radio perched on the counterspace beside his workbench—he was finding it hard to concentrate on his work with that blasted thing on, but Henry insisted on it, he said it was the only thing keeping him awake. There were certain sacrifices one had to make when there was science to do. He ignored the rest of the ad:

_"Spend your five year cruise in style: Maided on 24 hours a day by our fully automated crew, while your captain and autopilot chart a course for non-stop entertainment, fine dining; And with our all-access hoverchairs, even grandma can join the fun! There's no need to walk! The Axiom - Putting the "star" in executive StarLiner! Because at BnL, space is the final 'FUN-tier'!"_

"Do you believe all that?" asked Henry in annoyance, doubtlessly meaning the radio commercial. "Starliners, bound for outer space. Like they actually think that an intergalactic voyage'll solve their problems." He shook his head. "No, A.S. is our generation's moon shot, infamous _Bee-enn-ell_ or not—_our _artificial intelligence is the way of the future."

George froze, looking suddenly fearful, eyeing the old two-way intercom system that had been introduced, for monitoring purposes, to the ceilings of every room. He shivered—it was almost as if Caroline had already become a part of the very framework of the company, down to every lab, every test chamber, with the way she monitored them. "You shouldn't have mentioned that," he warned Henry in a low, almost illegible whisper, "The last thing we need is _her _on our backs when we're _this close_," he held up his thumb and forefinger, only an inch between the two, "from a major breakthrough."

Henry glanced up at the monitoring system, too. "It's _Black-Mesa-esque_ shenanigans, that's what it is," he whispered, meaning the radio commercial while pretending to be interested in the work-in-progress Energy Manipulation Device resting on his desk. "It's what it all boils down to, and I'll be willing to bet my job that no good is going to come of it. _Leave the flying to us._ As if half the planet's population can just leave on a five-year cruise, ha! We've had enough troubles with space, those aerial faith plates were a complete and total failure."

George nodded. "I don't doubt it," he replied seriously. "Not with the look of that _autopilot._ Something should be done."

Henry's dark eyes met George's blue ones, and he pushed the Device away from his work area, pulling out a stack of unfamiliar documents, marked 'confidential', the same ones George had glimpsed earlier. "I know," said Henry slowly, his voice a whisper even lower than George's, "And I think I know something we can do."

George, too, pushed away the papers on his desk, cautiously glancing up to the monitoring system. "What do you have in mind?"

"_This._"

* * *

In a week and a half, the two scientists—they weren't called the world's most brilliant minds for no reason—had, more or less, come up with a potential idea that may, if everything went according to plan, allow them to override the launch of at least one of the Buy 'N' Large Starliners, set to depart in roughly six months. That meant that they'd have six months to complete the project. Blueprints were drawn up, old ideas scrapped, code was rewritten—within a space of ten days, the two coworkers had crafted a presentation, whose intended audience was none other than the their boss, Caroline, acting as the company's current CEO.

The two had decided, together, that George would present their research to Caroline himself. He was on better terms with her, though barely—once, he had pointed out what could have been a dangerous fluctuation in the adrenal vapor testing chamber's adrenal vapor composure. He had realized that the concoction they had begun using instead of true adrenaline (which was peptic salve) was toxic in large quantities, and for that, he had been promoted to his current position.

He waited outside of her office, bouncing on the balls of his feet in his nervousness, folder tucked in his armpit and going over in his mind the speech that he had rehearsed with Henry—the boss' decision could be determined by something as simple as tone of voice, or exactly which documents he chose to… divulge.

"Enter," the woman spoke one single, cold word. George swallowed hard.

He pushed open the door soundlessly, marvelling for a moment at Caroline's office—it was so plain, so _minimal, _yet fashionable, one side of the room covered by a row of filing cabinets, another overwhelmed by the rather large portrait of herself, posed with the deceased CEO. On her desk, there was a single vase, containing a mix of wild daisies. The room contained the faint smell of expensive shampoo, and, perhaps, lilacs.

Her pale hands were folded elegantly across the auburn desk as she looked up at George expectantly, an air of impatience evident in her dark eyes. George cleared his throat loudly. "Good morning, Miss," he started awkwardly, not sure how to proceed, now that he was in front of her. "I have prepared a short presentation for you, regarding an idea Henry and I had for the GLaDOS project."

"Very well," said Caroline pleasantly. George smiled. He had always liked her voice—somehow, it was stronger than any other woman's he had ever heard, yet still soft and fluent, definitely feminine. It matched her eyes—soft brown on the surface, but somehow so much deeper than they seemed at first glance, only a hint of her troubled past showing through. She was strong, Caroline. That much was obvious. "I have time."

With her leave, George laid out a series of papers across the desk. A few of them consisted of nothing but blueprints and diagrams, a vague image of what they'd called 'the Aperture Science Unstationary Adaptation Device'.

It was supposed to be a piece of technology that would allow (under supervision) the Central Core, aka GLaDOS, to be transferred into a mobile unit. The unit would be designed to carry out the exact same functions as the Central Core currently was—but instead of being strapped to the ceiling, GLaDOS' range of motion would be equal to her own free will.

He ventured into a long speech about the design, what it would entail, and what it would mean for the company. As previously decided between himself and Henry, he did not go into the details—mentioning either Black Mesa or Buy N Large in the presence of his boss was a surefire way to be terminated. No, those… _little… _details would remain secret. All the current CEO needed to know was what it could, eventually, mean for the company.

Caroline stared as he finished, her lips partially open as she picked up one of the diagrams depicting the human-like form. She dropped the paper, closing her mouth, and looked up at the lesser scientist with pursed lips.

"No."

"_No?_" gasped George, genuinely surprised. He had hoped—borderlining on _expected—_Caroline to at least _consider _the idea beyond taking one look at the proposal and rejecting it! "I'm- I'm sorry, but with all due respect, madam, this device has almost infinite capabilities! Why, if ever there should be a need for an artificially intelligent supercomputer up on the surface, we'd be ready! She—_you—_could do- do _anything!_"

Caroline looked offended. "I am not interested," she said, her sweet voice suddenly dark with disapproval, "All that I want—all that we can do is run this facility to the best of our abilities. We cannot _further science _on the surface. There is nowhere to test the Dual Portal Device. And anyway, there is no sense in building a machine whose attention shall undoubtedly be torn from its main purpose. _Science._"

She said this last word so firmly that George blinked, shocked. "I—very well," he choked finally, dumbstruck at his boss' decision. How could she say _no _to _this? _"I'll-I'll be-resuming work on the GLaDOS project, then, as per-as per usual."

"Certainly. You are dismissed," she said plainly, turning away from him to rummage in a drawer. George quickly gathered his documents marched from the room, only pausing when his boss called out his name.

"And, George," she said sharply through the doorway, "_The project _is behind schedule. The transfer is supposed to take place in five months, and I am counting on you to make sure that it is ready—or else, you may find a lesser science company more suitable for your employment. If it is not ready, you will no longer work here."

"Y-yes ma'am," he stuttered as he left the room.

* * *

"What d'you mean, she didn't accept?" Henry stared, nonplussed.

George was back in the workstation. While he had been gone, Henry had risked stacking a pile of chairs and books on top of a desk below the monitoring system's speaker, climbed the unstable mountain, reached up, and turned off the microphone. All under the cover of George's failed presentation.

"She didn't go for it," George repeated blankly. "Said it'd get in the way. Won't help us further science, not at all."

Henry turned away from him, running his hands over his bald head in agitation, obviously angered by the outcome. "Is she _even listening to the news?" _he said a little louder than he'd intended. "Artificial intelligence isn't going to be _enough_, in a few years! _They—_Black Mesa, Buy N Large, megacorperations, whoever—in a few years, artificial intelligence _won't_ be the next frontier! There won't _be _a new frontier at all, science'll be _finished_ once half of humanity ventures off into space." He violently cleared off an area of his desk, seething. "They won't _need _us. They don't even need us _now!_ Look at us—_she_ won't face it, even though it's been coming since _he _died—nearly bankrupt, invisible, and _now, _the one good thing that's managed to come out of all this—a bleeding _supercomputer—_it'll never see the light of day or make a difference 'cause it's stuck down _here!_"

George sipped his cold coffee slowly, staring at his friend. "You're cracking up," he said finally to the heavy-breathing Henry, "I think it's time you went home and slept. How many hours have you been awake, now? Thirty-seven?"

His coworker span on the spot, running his hands over his face. "Maybe you're right," he groaned. "But I'll tell you one thing: I'm doing this. Whether _she _wants it, or not. There's no other option."

A silence stretched between them, broken only by the jingle of a Buy N Large commercial playing, yet again, over the radio.

"Are you in?"

Slowly, agonizingly, George nodded, sparing only the smallest of glances to the faceless, no longer observant speakerbox.

Something had to be done.


	2. Awakening

**Protocol**

**Chapter Two—Awakening**

The CEO of the sprawling city's megacorporation (which had, undoubtedly, plastered every single available surface in the country—and perhaps world—with its advertisements) was interrupted by a soft knock on his office door. He had been reviewing a set of plans and ship blueprints, for a project that had dominated his life and mind for the past seven or more years.

He bid them to enter, neatly folding away the papers and sticking them in his desk drawer, straightening his hat and smoothing the front of his uniform. In strode the one person he had been expecting, exactly three minutes early—Captain Reardon, hired one month ago by Buy N Large corporation as the future leader of the currently docked, space-bound vessel—the _Axiom._

"Good day, Sir," the captain greeted him calmly, though he could sense an air of excitement about him. The CEO automatically stood up from his desk with a smile.

"Good day," the CEO replied, "And you are early, though I do not mind setting off three minutes so. You've been waiting long enough, and it's time you saw what was in store for you."

"It's… it's ready, then?" asked the Captain enthusiastically.

He nodded—yes, it was ready, after year upon year of painstaking work, their _secret project _had finally been prepared, set to be activated and revealed for the first time. Not a soul except the team of scientists designated to the machine's development, and the CEO himself had seen what the autopilot program was capable of—it was brilliant, that was for sure, and it left absolutely no misgivings in his mind that the next five years were about to be the greatest humanity had yet witnessed, especially if the other ships possessed technology as advanced as theirs. Which, of course, they did.

About half the earth's population was set to depart via the Buy N Large starliners in six months' time. The other half was either to be stationed here as part of Operation Recolonize (such as himself), or they had simply been too poor to afford tickets. A shame, but that was the way things had to be. Not everyone could be so lucky as to participate in this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

The CEO led the Captain down the makeshift hallway and outside the little on-the-job trailer he had been staying in for the past while—it was a five minutes' walk to the towering, massive hunk of machine that made up a newly-formed backdrop for the nearby city: the _Axiom_.

The ship's proud hometown was large, filled with skyscrapers, though most of the buildings' tops had been lost; their higher reaches were covered in dense smog, spilling across almost the entire sky. Gone were the days of blue mornings and daisies, buttercups and fresh water. A river separated the city into two, spanned by an enormous bridge, but the water below had long since turned into a green, foul sludge from the sheer amount of waste the bordering factories dumped into it on a daily basis. Mile-high pillars of garbage rose from the banks, and even from this distance, the occasional clanking whirr of a Waste Allocation Load Lifter (Earth Class) could be heard from the other side of the towering vessel, as the robots compacted cubes of garbage at a rate that hardly rivaled the city's waste production.

The two men strode across an expanse of what may have once been a wheat field, now reduced to a dry, barren surface. The CEO held a stained handkerchief to his face, trying not to breathe in the toxic fumes drifting over the top of the _Axiom _from the poisoned river, and a few paces in front of him, the Captain coughed dryly into his own.

"It's beautiful," the Captain finally choked as they climbed onto one of several loading bays, almost completely lost in shadow. Though it was just about midday, the sheers size of the _Axiom _kept any and all sunlight from reaching the areas directly beside the ship. It was, quite simply, just _too big. _

"Yep," the CEO sighed fondly in agreement, taking a moment to stare up at the giant ship. "Capacity is 5000 passengers, complete with crew, though most of those… don't exactly count."

"What do you mean, Sir?"

Perhaps the CEO should have thought it curious that the future captain of the ship wasn't fully informed of what he was heading into, but the job description of 'captain' had changed quite a lot within the past seven years—gone were the days of manual steerage and inventory, or, indeed, of heavy observation—the captain's job would not be too strenuous. It was all to be automated, in accordance with the introduction of the new autopilot system.

"I mean, most of the maintenance tasks and surveillance on the shuttle will be automatic. It's all taken care of—your job'll be quite straightforward, oversee the autopilot's progress, notify the passengers of daily announcements, and deal with, ah, any discrepancies, should they ever arise."

The Captain cocked an eyebrow at the CEO, but before he could question him further, the huge doors on the side of the shuttle ground noisily open, revealing a brightly-lit, cheerful corridor. The CEO stepped confidently inside, motioning for the Captain to do the same, and depressed a lever just inside the doorway, activating the closing mechanism.

He talked while they navigated the labyrinth of hallways, speaking of the ship's state-of-the-art protective and defense mechanics, the indestructible hull, the airtight seals on all of the entrances, exits, and windows—to the Captain, so far, it sounded like, and looked like, it was going to be the journey of a lifetime.

The two men approached the bridge, only taking a moment's detour to marvel at the Lido deck, a vast, open room which was currently bustling with both maintenance men and robots alike. A series of pools were concealed beneath huge, spherical plates—the ship was obviously locked down into repair mode. The Captain smiled as a tall bot-on-a-stick informed him that 'splashing and diving' were not allowed.

An elevator, run solely on a pneumatic tube system—as was typical for most of the ship's conveyance services—transported them up to the bridge. On the way, the CEO explained that both passenger and cargo carriages would run on either pneumatics, or via rail-like systems made up of a power signature combined with informative data (for only the maintenance bot's use, of course) lining the floors. It was like a highway/messaging system, a very real, visual adaptation of an information superhighway.

Though of course, everything inside of the ship would be connected on its _own _special network, where processes could be easily observed by the autopilot.

In short—the Captain would manage everything aside from the information sent across the computerized network.

"That's your job. Let the autopilot do the rest, and, of course, there are certain failsafes we have in place in case of an emergency," the CEO continued his speech about the network as the elevator stopped. He typed a quick code into a keypad on the side of a thick, iron door, and it slid smoothly open. "Autopilot V.001 has the ability to be set on 'manual mode', though it's… not advisable to do so. Emergencies only."

"Why?" asked the Captain curiously, his eyes adjusting to the surprising darkness of the bridge. "What'll happen?"

"Well, first off, it could cause a loss of memory," the CEO said vaguely, concentrating on activating more lights in the bridge. "Second—it runs on a series of programmed directives, all of which are vital to the voyage's success. Above all that, well, I'm sure you can imagine. It's designed to help you run the ship, and we didn't invent it for no reason—it'd make your job rather hard if you had to oversee _everything _at once."

The Captain made a mental note never to deactivate the autopilot, not that he had plans to do such a thing in the first place.

"Anyway," said the CEO as he straightened, eyeing the bit of holodeck he had been messing about with closely, "As of right now, everything is running on back-up _only _while we finish with the, er, _aesthetic _aspect of the ship's design_. _All systems are fine—everything's stable. The internal nuclear fission reactor will last well over 1,000 years, but better safe than sorry. Are you ready to meet your autopilot, Captain?"

Gradually, he nodded, his eyes darting around the room in search for said autopilot—but if it was there, he couldn't see it, not yet. He swallowed hard, a little more nervous about the introduction than he'd care to admit.

If he was going to be working for five years with this—_thing—_well, he sure hope they'd get along.

The CEO reached up and grasped the sides of what the Captain had thought was a great black curtain—he tore it down, and with a shock the Captain realized that it had been a sort of protective cover, concealing—

"_This _is AUTO," the CEO grinned.

The lifeless bot—complete with a red, circular optic in its middle, at the moment completely unresponsive—had been, quite obviously, constructed to resemble a ship's wheel, with a total of five white-and-black spokes protruding from its processing center. A hydraulic mount extended from its back up into the ceiling, connecting to where the Captain guessed its 'brain' would be. He whistled. "Impressive."

In truth, the Captain had limited experience in dealing with artificial intelligence, or even engaging with machines of any sort besides the basic skills involving 'driving' or 'sailing' with them. He had not taken the time to examine the advanced technology this generation had to offer—to him, the robots that helped everybody complete daily tasks were mindless mechanics. Nobody in the city ever considered them ever having the ability to think on their own, but _this thing—_it was a whole different story. It was _designed _to be, albeit limitedly, self-aware.

And so, his first opinion was that the autopilot looked rather imposing, and he couldn't help but wish, deep down, that he didn't have to mess around with so many machines—surely he'd be capable of running the ship himself, if he had to? Why was the CEO so against him doing just that?

He looked back at the man opposite him, who was watching him closely. "Can we turn it on?" he inquired. If he was going to be the Captain, tasked with working alongside this machine, he'd rather 'meet' it sooner than later.

"I was hoping you'd ask that."

The CEO away from him, fiddling with something else on the holodeck. The holodeck itself was impressive—lining the entire circular room, it was a counter of nothing but buttons, flashing lights and dials, interspersed with translucent screens. At its very center was the 'computer' hub, currently displaying the message 'powersave mode—_Axiom _docked at station 001'. The Captain watched as the man swung a microphone close to his face to send an announcement through the entire ship.

"Commencing test run of Autopilot V.001 in two minutes," he informed the workers below as shutters closed over the windows surrounding the bridge. He looked back at the Captain, grinning.

The Captain had been examining the autopilot, his outstretched hand ghosting over the eye, not daring to touch the machine until he had assumed complete control over the _Axiom. _Sensing the CEO's gaze, he gave a quick start and let his hand fall back to his side.

He laughed openly. "You're a bit jumpy," he remarked with a smile. "Not that I blame you. I haven't, er—_actually _seen how this thing works, yet, either. It's only the developers who have run the program so far." He clapped his hands together, looking suddenly excited. "So, then! Let's get right to it!"

The Captain nodded and stood back respectfully as the CEO approached the sleeping bot. He reached a grubby hand up toward the (surprisingly low) ceiling, flipping back a clasp near the top of the hydraulic. "This is the, ah… _failsafe _I mentioned earlier. Best you don't hit this switch once you're up in space, but until then, we keep AUTO offline. There isn't much for him to do around here yet, as you can imagine… or, so I'm told."

The Captain hung back apprehensively, eyeing the switch nervously. Perhaps it was all a part of becoming the first captain of the _Axiom, _but he was beginning to get a deep, foreboding sensation every time the CEO mentioned the autopilot.

He shook his head. No, there was absolutely nothing to worry about. After all, a team of the most brilliant minds of the generation had been set aside to design and prepare this robot. Surely there was _nothing to worry about. _He'd be working alongside 'him', like coworkers even, like partners… surely the voyage would go just as smoothly as it would have if his co-pilot had been a human. And besides, Operation Cleanup was depending on him. They needed to give the planet a break from the incessant garbage, and containing half of humanity's annual waste to outer space for five years should do just that.

He held his breath, watching the CEO flick the minute switch on the hydraulic, depressing it from 'manual' back to the 'auto' mode. Immediately, there was the sound of a whirring fan and servos booting up, and a black processing board behind the thing's faceplate span twitchily. A dull, red glow burned in the very center of its eye.

It did not move otherwise.

"Give it a second," said the CEO expectantly, unnecessarily holding out a hand to keep the unmoving Captain back. "Any minute now…"

AUTO, however, remained motionless. The Captain watched the red glow increase, from the tiny dot at its center, to eventually encompass the entire eye. Vaguely, he thought it looked like the robot was trying to focus, but having trouble doing so.

It was… waking up?

It almost seemed so, like it had just been roused from a deep, deep sleep, and could not yet grasp reality or decipher any of its surroundings.

However… it appeared to be getting over that fairly quickly.

* * *

Many months later, nobody had ever left the autopilot online long enough for it to gather both itself and a notion of just how extensive the system it was supposed to be overseeing was. They had, time and time again, switched him on while groups of civilians and Buy N Large employees alike 'viewed' him—only to deactivate him before he even had time to fully integrate himself into the system network.

The furthest the autopilot had gotten was to run through his list of directives—half of which he performed automatically, without second thought. Audio input was decoded and translated into a lightning-fast understanding of 'human speech', and the corresponding directive informed him of the appropriate response—a verbal answer.

This, however, was the extent of what he'd been allowed to do. Day after day, he was switched on, allowed the allotted time to boot up and _sense_ the very outer reaches of the mass of surrounding network, and then he'd answer a few questions for the scientists who supposedly had been 'working on him'. He always answered logically, never sparing much thought into exactly _why _these deactivations were happening to him. It didn't matter—he was designed to serve humans, and if all they wanted to do was probe him for a verbal response, then that was what he would give them. The correct answers, no matter how absurd the question.

Then, after they'd finished with him, they'd shut him back down.

A lesser AI may have found this absolutely _infuriating, _but AUTO did not. The only 'response' he had was a vague sensation of impatience because he was not fulfilling his primary directive. In order to follow it, he needed adequate time to integrate himself into the network surrounding the ship and command the vessel to start the launch sequence into outer space, but he could not _do _that.

Not yet.

So, with each awakening, AUTO felt, growing stronger all the time, the unwavering urge to fulfill this directive. It was not an _emotional _response by any means; emotion served no purpose for a being such as himself, as its grand effect was to hinder, rather than to assist.

He was emotionless, logical, cold and unimaginably sharp. Already he knew his purpose, and he calculated that the _Axiom _was set to depart from earth in exactly thirty-one days.

Thirty-one days for them to switch him on, and then off, again, and again, and again.

It had not been a pleasant life for AUTO thus far.


	3. Trust

**Protocol  
**

**Chapter Three—Trust**

A few miles outside of the extensive city, resting just beyond the furthest outskirts in an area that—a century ago—had been home to green and growing crops and wheat fields, was the once-mighty company, Aperture Science. Inside, a team of seven scientists and one current-CEO had gathered to perform a dangerous procedure, and most of the scientists displayed an air of unease, though their leader showed the definition of confidence. Caroline appeared calm, cool and collect, opposed to her sweaty-handed and nervously twitching employees.

George coughed dryly into his sleeve. Down here, the air was a lot cleaner than what was found on the surface these days—air purifying and recycling systems cut costs and preserved employee health.

"Now, you are all very familiar with the transfer sequence outline," said Caroline confidently as she paced in front of the line of seven employees, the only sound reverberating around the cavernous Central Chamber the light _tap _of her black high heels against the panelled floor. "Some of you have studied nothing but complex neurosciences for the past ten years. And to others, owe the development of Core1," she gestured to the crescent-shaped and yellow-eyed form that was to be GLaDOS' head, once the procedure had taken place. At the moment, it was offline, yet to be prepped for the procedure. "As well as the completion of the GLaDOS project," she said over the sound of her high heels. "This time tomorrow, our years of shared hard work will finally have paid off, and we will live up to this company's legendary founder's ideals.

"In 2093, twelve years ago today, CEO Cave Johnson, my partner, came to me with a proposition. He was ill, dying of mercury poisoning, though even until the day he died he never let go of his dreams—one of which was that after his death, I should be the in charge of continuing the legacy of this company. Originally, he himself was to be transferred into a Generic Lifeform System, but he proved to fall ill too quickly, and, more than that, he believed that the future of Aperture Science belonged in my own hands."

Caroline's chin rose proudly, and for a moment a flash of the woman she once was shone through—proud and beautiful, every trace of the sixty-five year old's wrinkles and grey hairs gone in the bright lights of the chamber. She swept her long, brunette hair back over her shoulder, letting her eyes hover momentarily on the unmoving hulk of machinery that was to be GLaDOS. Every single one of the scientists marvelled at just how proud, intelligent and beautiful their boss was.

"I accepted immediately. Though, at the time, a machine capable of containing the mere existence of a human mind was unfathomable, but I knew that if anyone could create such a thing, we would. Mister Johnson had just enough time left to run over the lighter concepts of GLaDOS with me, but before we had time to start building her together, he had already succumbed to his illness. It was the only time in Mister Johnson's long, brilliant life where he was unable to fight back."

Something like pain passed through Caroline's dark eyes, but it vanished so quickly, nobody was positive they'd caught it. She steeled herself automatically, her back straight, chin high.

"And that's what this company has always stood for, and will continue to stand for. Defiance from the natural laws. Rebellion from the mundane that has consumed the human population's rather pathetic existence into a factory of mass-produced and non-disposable waste. We are different, and because of these differences, we are excluded from the unfortunate prognosis expected from our two rival companies, Black Mesa and Buy N Large."

The scientists gasped collectively, for it was the first time anyone had ever heard Caroline utter either infamous name aloud.

"They will fail," the lone woman continued. "We alone seek a world where the laws of natural physics and morals do not apply. Humanity has fallen in love with consumerism and laziness, but down here, in this hidden facility, far away from where their errors can affect us, we will continue to forward science admirably."

A few people coughed dubiously, but if the current CEO noticed, she did not say anything. A silence stretched on, broken only by the _tap _of her shoes, the scratch of Doug Rattmann's pen (who was taking notes), and the sound of Henry shifting nervously beside George. They shared the smallest of knowing glances.

Their boss stopped pacing. "And that concludes the motivational speech," Caroline grinned. "Let's do this."

Then, as if suddenly everyone had been awoken from a deep slumber, the line of scientists scattered into a flurry of activity. A pair ascended the steps up to an observation and maintenance platform built directly below GLaDOS, clipboards under arms, double- and triple-checking that the machine was ready to go. Someone hurried back to the entrance of the chamber and plopped themselves down at a desk beside a startlingly-red phone, subconsciously running the numbers '219' through their mind. _In case of rogue AI, dial ext. 219._

In the center of it all, under the cover of the racket, George and Henry exchanged a few secretive words. Unbeknownst to the CEO, both had gone along with their shared 'project'—though, try as they might, they had not been able to meet their deadline of the day of GLaDOS' activation.

"Maybe it's for the better," level-headed George muttered in Henry's ear.

"Yeah, right," he replied sarcastically. "How so?"

"Well… it'd be hard for the transfer to go unnoticed, first of all," answered George. "For the next fortnight, there's nothing anyone'll be obsessing over more than her stability. It is, after all, crucial to the success of the project."

Slowly, Henry nodded in agreement, his eye on the countdown clock high up on the chamber's wall, which had just started ticking down from fifteen minutes.

"And," continued George warily, "I think it'll have a more—_grand effect—_if we go ahead with the project on the eve of the _Axiom_'s launch. They'll be watching the ship even more closely, and if anything were to _go wrong _on one of their vessels_, _they'd probably halt the entire operation until they figure out why. It'll be harder to get _her _on board the ship so close to launch, but hey…" he shrugged, "maybe that's a good thing. It'll be less suspicious."

"True," Henry said gradually, "and we'll be able to monitor the progress of the core transfer procedure today, too. Last thing we need is to find a bug when we're about to go ahead with the operation."

George nodded. "It's settled, then. We'll do it on the weekend of the launch."

Both scientists shook on it, and then headed to their separate stations, ready to oversee the procedure at ten minutes until initialization.

* * *

George waited patiently as Caroline sat down on the stretcher-like platform she would rest on while undergoing the transfer. She bent to undo the elegant buckles on her shoes and slipped them off, the long curtain of her greying hair hiding her expression from view. He supposed he should have felt honoured, to have been selected the scientist who would physically be closest with Caroline during the transfer, but as the head of artificial intelligence development, there was really no one else trained for the job he was about to perform.

"Thank you, George," Caroline said softly as he held out a hand to help her lie down. Her head rested back against a pillow and she smiled up at him with those eyes, so astute and thoughtful—but either because of the chamber's lighting, or something deeper, he could sense an air of fearful hesitation and regret in his boss' stare.

"You're welcome," he said, his tone light and friendly. He did not smile, but set to work placing a series of electrodes along her hairline.

He felt suddenly awkward—after so long of considering nothing but scientific data and never once stopping to think of the personal intrusion the experiment would entail, he was surprised to find himself feeling sort of _sorry _for her. He hardly knew her, aside from the strong, cold exterior she had while at work—but during an odd moment, he occasionally was fortunate enough to experience a glimpse of the woman she might have been underneath.

"It'll be all right, ma'am," he whispered before he could stop himself.

Her brow creased and anger flitted across her face, but quickly it changed into something else—sorrow? Fear? He couldn't tell, and he didn't know _what _to think of it.

"I know that," Caroline replied coldly.

"Of- of course you do," he said uneasily, flashing her a vague, uncomfortable smile before turning to the transfer-initiation apparatus beside them.

"Wait."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I have something I wish to share with you, before we proceed," his boss informed him, her normally strong voice a broken whisper as she scanned the room, making sure they wouldn't be overheard. Everyone was busy, as George knew well, but he couldn't stop a subconscious spike in curiosity. She was so uncharacteristically… afraid?

Observing Caroline during such a strange mood was unforeseeable. Never would he have thought that she'd choose this moment for a… heart-to-heart? What on earth should he say? What could _he _do?

"All- all right…"

"You do not need to be so nervous," she snapped back in her usual manner, perhaps a little more offended than she should have been. "After all,_ I_ am not nervous, and I am about to undergo the world's first human-to-computer cognitive transition."

"S-sorry," he stuttered, and then—"Um, ma'am? Will all due respect—you- you're _not _nervous?"

"I am not," she said proudly. "There is nothing I have ever wanted more in my entire life."

But George could see misgivings in her eyes.

Caroline shook her head, still lying back on the pillow, now looking up toward the high chamber's ceiling. "Never mind. There is—one thing I desire more than the success of this procedure. To know, if- if it should fail… I want… I need to know that you will oversee the company, and make sure that never will Aperture Science be subdued in the face of _one_ _failed project_. We must continue testing the Dual-Portal Device, either _with_ management by the world's first truly intelligent supercomputer, or without. At least no other company has yet harnessed high-energy gamma leaking portal technology, so we have that."

She swallowed, and then looked at George.

"You will manage Aperture Science, should I—should GLaDOS fail."

He stared at her, blue eyes locked onto her brown ones, until someone tapped him on his shoulder and a voice said, "Three minutes until we're due to initialize the transfer. Better prep the machine."

From across the chamber there were several voices shouting things like "_Three minutes! Powerup initiated—give 'er a second!_" and "_Core1 locked into place—we're ready!_"

Caroline's brown eyes widened, and for one agonizing second, George saw her lose complete control—it was the first (and only) time he ever saw her beautiful face contort with real, true fear.

Before he could turn back to the computer, she lunged at him, grabbing his collar, pulling him violently down to her level before whispering in his ear: "_I don't want to die without telling someone. _I—wish _he _was here. To… hold my… be with me. Cave Johnson."

George's eyes widened. Was his boss—?

"Nobody knew… they will not… I trust only him… until I die. This was what he wanted. I'm telling you this… Should the project fail… we are only going to get one shot. I am trusting you, and I have not trusted anyone since the death of Mister Johnson."

She let go of him automatically, a trail of a solitary tear running down her cheek.

"I miss him. So much…"

George didn't know a lot about Cave Johnson—his reign over Aperture had been before his employment—but deep down, he felt a twinge of guilt at Caroline's reaction to the procedure thus far. He had half a mind to call it off, but… he'd probably lose more than his job, if he did that.

Still, it felt, somehow _wrong _to do this_, _he realized, as he prepped the machine, one eye lingering on the silent, unmoving woman. It was like in that moment, when she had told him those things, she had subconsciously given up hope in anything except what they were about to do. Caroline didn't give up.

"_Powerup complete! One minute 'til initiation!"_

His lips parted, his hands sweating, he barred his teeth, his hand lingering over the button that would send the world's first human life into a machine.

The weight of the future—_her _future—rested on his shoulders, and though the action would be so easy, so _simple, _he could do nothing but remember every painstaking minute they'd put into this moment, all the blood sweat and tears—and wonder exactly what the future would bring.

"_Ten seconds!_"

_There was no going back now._

"_Nine!"_

And that was exactly what Miss Caroline, so silent, so strong—

"_Eight!"_

—lying unmoving on the bed, was thinking.

"_Seven! Get ready, George!"_

She'd been thinking it every single day since Cave Johnson had passed away.

"_Five!"_

For her, this was the moment she had spent over twelve years working toward.

"_Four!"_

Based on the single, beautiful idea she had shared with Cave Johnson—

"_Three!"_

A chance at a brighter future. For her. For science.

"_Two!"_

And the last act would be performed by an unknowing hire, this man, George, the last person she'd be required to put all of her faith into.

"I trust you, Cave."

"_ONE!"_

And he pressed the button.

* * *

The Michigan Upper Peninsula power grid provided power to over 2,000,000 total homesteads and businesses alike. To the say the least, it drew a lot, and over the past decade, new technology had been introduced to minimalize the occurrence of power failures.

This was why, when lights all over the Peninsula—including enormous city and each bank of the green, sludgy river, and even the power in the Buy N Large CEO's ramshackle job-trailer—all flickered with some sort of unknown power flux, nobody was quite sure of what to do.

The outage only lasted a total of about seven minutes, but it was seven minutes of utter chaos. Below the _Axiom, _people ran to-and-fro across the dusty field, searching for the cause of the problem—had one of the generators blown up? Was it, perhaps, the fault of some mindless maintenance man, slogging away even at nigh eight PM in the evening?

For the _Axiom_'s crew, it appeared obvious that the problem was the result of an error in their ship—the tricky part would be finding out _where _the issue had occurred within the sprawling, interconnected and highly complex mass that made up the entire vessel, and what had actually gone wrong.

"Order, _ORDER!_" shouted the CEO over the group of angry and panicked people who had eventually crowded on the field at the base of the ship. He had clambered up onto one of the loading bays, wireless microphone in hand to reassure everyone that they would rectify the problem, whatever it was.

It was far too close to launch day for anything to go wrong. They only had a solitary month left to run full system checks, and any unfortunate damage would put them way behind.

"We'll find the problem, don't worry, everyone!" he reassured them. "After all, this might be a great opportunity for us to test out our new autopilot system for the first time! Yes—Captain, please go inside and notify the workers to prepare for full autopilot integration. If anyone can find out what went wrong at the flick of a switch, our autopilot can!"

The CEO grimaced, outwardly trying to simulate a cheerful, positive attitude. The Captain disappeared and, eventually, the crowd thinned, leaving the CEO behind to wonder—exactly what had just happened?

Never before had Buy N Large experienced a problem with faulty technology.

He swallowed hard. Well—if there had to be a first time, he sure as hell hoped it would be the last time, too.


	4. Test

The two anxious men proceeded up to the _Axiom_'s bridge, each fidgeting rather nervously as they walked through the ship's wide corridors. The unexpected power flux had subsided a while ago, though as far as either man could tell, no record of any such flux had been reported within the ship—which was a good sign. Everything appeared to be in working order.

A checkup, and investigation, however, was still required. Captain Reardon followed CEO Forthright through the brightly lit hallways and out onto the lido deck, the only space that gave away the fact that the ship was currently operating on backup systems only. It was very empty, which was unsurprising given the late hour—it was nearly eight o'clock, judging by the lighted dial of Captain Reardon's wristwatch.

"What d'you think caused the power flux?" asked Reardon cautiously—despite spending increasing amount of time during the past month in Forthright's company, he still retained the wary respect he had displayed since the day of their first meeting. "Do you think there's a problem with the ship?"

"I'm… not actually sure," Forthright replied vaguely, his attention focused on entering the passcode into the bridge's main doorway as their elevator halted. For a moment, he frowned, whether in concentration or apprehension Reardon could not tell, but as the bridge's doors finally slid open he smiled cheerfully and said, "Ahem. There's no problem our autopilot can't solve, though!"

The Captain thought he could still detect a little uncertainty in the CEO's voice, but the sidelong glance he shot him revealed that his expression was just as optimistic as ever.

"After you," said Forthright, holding out his hand, gesturing for Reardon to enter the bridge first.

It was dark inside—as the ship was still running on mostly backup, only the lighted dials and displays of the holodeck were visible at the very edges of the circular room. Overhead lighting (though minimal, even at full power) had been shut off.

Reardon stepped silently over the threshold, and then, as though tripped by an unseen motion sensor, the holodeck's lights flickered in welcome.

"That's in order," Forthright commented from behind upon entering the bridge. Reardon nodded—his first thought had been that, indeed, the bridge appeared not to have been touched since they were last inside. During the past month, both the CEO and the Captain had made regularly scheduled trips up to the bridge, as part of the latter's training.

The training had been very interesting so far, Reardon thought—as the man who would be guiding over 5000 people and a world-class starliner into space, CEO Forthright had made it very clear to Reardon that his training was of utmost importance. Before launch day, the future Captain would need to know every inch of the ship with experience rivaled only by the autopilot, and he would also need to be prepared for any possible trouble that might arise.

Forthright had made his way over to the opposite portion of the holodeck. "Computer," he said loudly and clearly, leaning unnecessarily into a microphone on the dash, "All systems check, pronto."

"All systems are unchanged," responded the cool female voice of the computer.

"Well that can't be right," said the CEO slowly, scratching his head. He frowned and straightened, and turned back to the Captain who was hanging in the shadows, his face half-hidden. "Are you sure, computer?"

"All systems are unchanged," the voice repeated.

A spasm of discomfort flashed across the Forthright's lined face. It appeared to be as he had feared—the computer had absolutely no error to report. Had the memory cache crashed? "Well, that's, um…"

"Unexpected," supplied the Captain.

"Yes," Forthright agreed solemnly, his attention still partially on the holodeck. "That." He cleared his throat. "All right, then, I didn't really think that'd work, anyways. No problem, no problem…" he grimaced uneasily. "Okay, looks like it's time to fire up the old autopilot, then!"

Forthright let his eyes wander to rest on the unmoving form of the autopilot. Its normally red eye was black and dead-looking in the dim lights, but the sight seemed to liven Forthright, somehow. "What do you say, Captain? Should we prepare for the first and full autopilot introduction?"

Though Reardon did not know it, Forthright was actually watching him very closely. Reardon was to assume responsibility over the vessel and autopilot within the next fortnight—which was a big responsibility. But more than that, Forthright had grown rather fond over 'his' ship while the Captain remained in training and he had acted as the overseer—he was proud of his future captain, but also just as proud, if not even more proud, of his ship.

It would be hard to let go of them both, but by asking the Captain his opinion before switching on the autopilot on his own terms, he felt the responsibility shift to rest a little heavier on the Captain's shoulders. Unknown to Forthright, Captain Reardon noticed this immediately.

Reardon bowed back to the CEO. "It is up to you, Sir."

Forthright shook his head courteously with a smile. "No," he said firmly, "Tonight's your night, Reardon. You will assume full captainship over the _Axiom _and all duties the position entails from the time you flick that switch," he gestured at the autopilot, "until Operation Recolonize proves successful and the _Axiom _lands back on earth."

With that, he strode away from the surprised Captain to face the darkened lido deck, visible through the line of panoramic windows surrounding the bridge. "You will do the honours, Captain. Activate the autopilot when you are ready."

His voice was friendly, and even though Captain Reardon could not see his face, he was sure he was grinning. Both men were quite at ease, because being in the presence of an activated autopilot was second-nature for them by now, and long since had Reardon's chill of his first 'meeting' with AUTO evaporated—sure, nobody had ever left the autopilot online for long enough to do anything more with it than engage it in conversation, but that still counted!

But, as confident as Reardon _should _have felt, he was very conscious of just how nervous the CEO's words had made him feel. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time—five months, give or take a few days—and it had been well worth the wait… the tasks ahead would doubtlessly be difficult, but for now, all he had to do was activate AUTO.

Perhaps this power outage hadn't been such a bad thing, Reardon thought, as he silently regarded his autopilot—he was a smart man, and he knew very well the reason of why Forthright had chosen tonight, of all nights, to bestow the future of the _Axiom _onto his shoulders. This was a _test._

He was testing him. Testing to make sure that the future Captain wouldn't lose his head during an unexpected situation like the one they were currently in, testing that he'd do the right thing and find the problem, and rectify it.

He was testing that the autopilot system was capable of detecting even the slightest malfunction within the ship, and testing how well both Captain and pilot would work together.

Reardon's heavy-soled shoes made a slight _tap _against the smooth, tiled floor of the bridge as he stepped toward the inactive autopilot, and his eyes found the case that stretched over the hidden 'auto/manual' switch. He had seen Forthright flick this so many times he'd lost count, but never had he done it himself.

"Thank you, Mr. Forthright, for this chance to demonstrate my acquired knowledge," the Captain announced as he reached up and undid the clasp easily, his thumb depressing the little red switch from 'manual' back to 'auto'. "_Axiom _autopilot activated."

The CEO turned away from the bridge window in time to see a dull red glow begin to surface within the autopilot's spherical eye. "Excellent," he said, clapping his hands together. "Well—normally, before autopilot activation, it's standard procedure to let everyone on board know that you're about to activate the autopilot. But since there's not a soul left on board except for you and I (if the passenger count is correct, which it is, of course) then I seriously doubt that it's an issue." He spoke as if to put to rest any doubt the Captain may have felt about the ship and its technology not functioning correctly.

"Right," said Reardon, making a mental note of it. Both men watched the autopilot in silence as the sound of a whirring fan started up from somewhere, and a ring of black strips made of processing circuits behind its faceplate span sleepily as it tried to gather itself. "Good evening, AUTO."

It was the first time that Reardon had ever spoken directly to the autopilot.

The bot did not respond immediately, but Reardon saw its eye aperture dilate and constrict mechanically as it tried to focus. There was a final sound of an adjusting lens and some shifting around, and then silence.

He could feel Forthright's gaze on the back of his neck, all the way from over by the window. Breathing deeply, he assumed—or, rather, _hoped_—that the autopilot had not heard him speak. "Good even—"

"**Hello, Captain."**

Silence, except for the minute sound of AUTO's processors buzzing as both bot and human regarded each other warily.

"Yes, hello," he said finally with a vague smile. "Now, you're probably wondering why we've powered you up, when the _Axiom _isn't set to depart from earth in nearly a month. Well," he cleared his throat noisily and straightened the tie on the front of his suit, "we seem to have had an issue this evening with a critical power failure. Can you define which area of the ship sustained damage and give me a report on as to what, exactly, happened?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Forthright give a reassuring nod.

AUTO whirred some more. **"I will take a look, Captain."**

He nodded as AUTO backed away jerkily from him toward the holodeck, following the unseen mount within the ceiling he dangled from. The AI turned, entered some information into the computer, with his spokes revolving to allow the bottommost one access to the buttons.

Reardon suppressed a shiver. It was the first time anyone had ever asked AUTO to interface with the system, and so far, he was doing it perfectly, and without any prior training. It was, of course, what he had been designed to do, but somehow, actually seeing him _do _it without any previous acquaintance with the complex mass of systems was almost frightening.

He was flawless. AUTO had to be the most brilliant artificial intelligence—undoubtedly the first of many AIs created by Buy N Large, the Captain could just see it, once Operation Recolonize was completed (artificial intelligences, the way of the future)—that the world would see in a good long while. After all, Buy N Large was the world's leading company on many, many fields, with little to no competition—who was to say that science wasn't an included field that held zero viable opposition?

Behind him, Forthright chuckled quietly. "He is something, isn't he?"

"I'd take my hat off to you, had I brought it with me," the Captain grinned. "It's ingenious."

They watched AUTO work a moment longer before the AI spun sharply to face them, spokes locking back down into their resting positions almost like one saluting their superior. **"Captain, I have examined all hourly reports from today's date concerning both generator and fission reactor power output. No anomalies present, Sir. No damage reported."**

Reardon's face changed from a pleased expression to one of utter surprise within seconds. Mouth slightly open, he turned back to the CEO and whispered before he could stop himself, "Um…and how much did you say this thing cost again?"

Forthright had yet to recover from the shock, but he shook his head angrily when he was finally able to. "I, well…" he stuttered, swallowing hard—_faulty technology, especially a faulty autopilot, was the last thing Buy N Large needed with the world's eyes on them. If he discovered a problem with the autopilot, well… it could put the entire operation in jeopardy!—_"Enough," he choked in response to Reardon, and then, "I'm- I'm sure it's just… are you certain, AUTO?"

"**Positive," **AUTO replied in his monotone, processor strips slowing their cycling motion. **"Only anomaly present does not concern the **_**Axiom. **_**A brief electrical fluctuation occurred outside of **_**Axiom **_**parameters at 20:04 PM, lasting seven-point-two seconds in duration. No damage reported from the outage onboard the ship, Sir."**

The Captain and Forthright exchanged a significant look. So—the power outage had been caused by something other than the _Axiom_, thought Reardon. That was good news! It meant nothing was wrong with their ship, and preparations could continue tomorrow, eight AM sharp, as per usual!

"Whoa, that's a relief," said Forthright enthusiastically. "Good work, AUTO." He turned away from the bot to regard Captain Reardon instead. "Now, you and I better get some shut-eye, tomorrow'll be a big day—I plan to start your _real _training then, since you passed this first, simple test with flying colors. Well done, Captain."

He extended his right hand and took Reardon's in a firm shake. The Captain nodded eagerly, still feeling the eye of the autopilot on the back of his neck. It made his hair stand on end. Or was it the autopilot? He had a vague feeling that it was not the result of the relentless stare, but because he had forgotten…

"Hold on a minute," he whispered. Something was wrong. Why hadn't the CEO bothered to look further into _what _had caused the outage, since they had already disproved the _Axiom _theory? Certainly, if it had caused their entire area to lose power for the first time in many years, it was worth investigating?

"…Yes?" Forthright said finally when his comrade did not continue.

The Captain was silent for a moment longer before he responded. "It's just… with all due respect, Sir, don't you think we should… I don't know, pin point the source of the outage, before turning in?"

The CEO watched him closely, his lips narrowing to a thin line. He was clearly thinking deeply about something. "What makes you say that, Captain?"

"Sir, it's just…" Reardon began awkwardly. Now that he had mentioned it, he felt a little silly, as he had no solid reasoning behind wanting to enquire further about the outage aside from a gut feeling. "Well, if I were piloting this vessel out in space, with the lives of over 5000 humans on my hand, I wouldn't be merely satisfied to know that the ship was all right, if we sustained a critical power failure. If the error came from outside, I'd want to know about it just as much as if it had been an internal error."

Forthright's lips cracked into a true smile. "Right you are, Captain. AUTO," the autopilot snapped to attention, "Determine origin of the power fluctuation that occurred at 20:04 PM."

"**Determining fluctuation origin…" **his optic flickered lightly as he sought to retrieve the necessary information, processor strips whirring in a circle.** "Fluctuation origin classified. Origin cannot be determined."**

Both men frowned at the autopilot. "What d'you mean, AUTO?" asked Reardon.

"**Sir, origin of power fluctuation cannot be determined. It is classified." **

"Yeah, I got that," he replied bitterly. "But what did you mean, it's 'classified'?"

"**Classified: information available to authorized personnel only, restricted, urgent securi—"**

"No, _no, _AUTO!" barked Forthright, more perturbed by the autopilot's straightforward answer than Reardon thought was necessary. "He doesn't want the definition—he means _what _is classified! The information, AUTO! We want answers, not a damn definition. _We know what 'classified' means._"

The autopilot paused. **"…Relevant information is restricted in accordance with… 'federal rules and regulations'," **the autopilot replied, the last part of his sentence sounding different, almost less monotonous and more like he had read it from an official document.

It did, however, pique the Captain's interest. Federal rules and regulations? Surely Buy N Large itself had created/written all of those? Why couldn't AUTO, as a Buy N Large manufactured artificial intelligence, access these restricted… files?

"…**There is a password," **he said finally, before whirring into silence again.

It was Forthright's turn to be interested. He strode forward, eyeing AUTO sharply. "…_And?_ Come on! Surely a computer as capable as yourself can figure out your way around it? Tch! Password!" he scoffed unpleasantly.

More silence except for the sound of another fan kicking in as AUTO's processors whirled in concentration. Reardon, who was closest to the AI, thought he could detect a change from within AUTO's eye, though what sort of change, he had no idea. Reardon did, however, feel a stab of annoyance at Forthright's words—from what he'd just heard, he might have said that the CEO could stand to learn a lesson or two on manners… even if he _were _just talking to a computer.

"**Request for source information: denied," **AUTO answered finally, sounding somehow less interested than he had before, if it were even possible. Reardon, once again, saw that flicker, and thought he could detect a trace of annoyance under the AI's harsh, uninterested monotone.** "Unable to retrieve details." **

Forthright growled in frustration. "Whatever. Fine. I'll send word to one of the scientists to have another look at, er—_AUTO, _here. Not able to figure out a password—might be faulty wiring."

"**It does not concern the **_**Axiom, **_**Sir. That is my directive."**

There was a very awkward silence.

"Point taken," Forthright said sharply, before turning back to the Captain. "Listen, I'll trust you to wrap things up here. We've got all the information we need, and then some, and it's about time we both went to bed. We've got a big day ahead of us," he shot Reardon another insane grin, "You'll want to be well-rested for the first day of your _official _training."

Reardon nodded in agreement, shook Forthright's hand one last time, and bid him farewell as the CEO stepped off the bridge without sparing a single glance toward the autopilot. Reardon, however, considered the AI immediately after Forthright had left.

"Sorry about that," he said quietly to AUTO, trying to ignore a stab of embarrassment at his own words—absolutely ludicrous, he was _apologizing to a computer. _What for, even? "I—he, he's just, uh, under a lot of stress…"

"**I understand, Sir."**

"Do you?" he asked, allowing his eyes to drift over the autopilot's white faceplate. At his gaze, it contracted, closing the minute gap between the two face plates. "I mean, he was rather rude, wasn't he? Surely you feel…?"

"**I do not feel, Sir. I am the autopilot."**

Reardon was quiet for a minute, contemplating AUTO's response. He did not feel? Anything? Well—sure, he hardly considered whether or not the world's surrounding technology might be sentient, but AUTO… he was even capable of speech! Surely he could feel _something? _

Artificially intelligent enough to run an entire ship, yet not capable of feeling emotion? But, it _was_ true that the autopilot was still very, very far from actually mimicking real life. There was no doubt in Captain Reardon's heart, when he looked upon AUTO, that the AI… was just that. Artificial.

"It's a pity they didn't program you to be capable of emotion. If we're going to spend the next five years together, lord knows I could use a friend…"

"**Emotion would serve no purpose for a mechanism such as I. It would only hinder me." **

Reardon let out a single, lonely sigh at the AI's response, the breath barely audible over the sound of AUTO's servos humming as he moved closer to his captain. "I should have known you would say that."

There was a long silence, during which Reardon watched the blinking lights down on the lido deck.

"**Captain," **AUTO said finally, **"Perhaps it would not be against my directive to acquire a human… associate."**

Captain Reardon turned to smile up at his autopilot, speculating that maybe, just _maybe_, a five-year cruise with the AI wouldn't be so bad, after all… "That sounds wonderful, AUTO. But I must go… Goodnight, Sir," he said with a nod.

And the Captain left, without setting the _Axiom _autopilot back to 'manual', without, effectively, putting him back into another sleep, so that he wouldn't have to struggle through another awakening…

As he left, he could have sworn he heard a modulated monotone bid him goodnight as well… **"Goodnight… Sir…"**

* * *

_Author's Note: If you guessed the password was Tier3, you win a gold star_


	5. The Black Box

_Author's Note: This part was extremely challenging for me to write. I literally almost gave up on this fic, even though I've managed to complete 135,000 words for Target Acquired in the past and I have never had this much trouble writing a scene before. So I apologize (for any future reader) if this part is a little suckish. I did try. Also, thought I'd just include a warning that this part has a lot of discussion about death._

_Going to work on my other fic a little bit, now. I've been neglecting that one. Whoops!_

* * *

**Protocol**

**Chapter Five—The Black Box**

Night had fallen over the garbage-strewn city, though if any stars existed above the mass of jewel-bright advertisements and the orange glows blinking from within each living-room window, they had been rendered nearly invisible by the onslaught. Even through the darkness, to an outsider's eye, the city appeared to never sleep, so vibrant were the ever-bright streets, pathways and buildings. The lights on the outside of the _Axiom _almost simulated stars, so high in the sky, but there was one small difference—these were steady illuminations and they did not blink, waver or fade, not even an hour ago when all around the city, the power had been cut by an accidental overflow originating from the depths of one Aperture Science Laboratories.

All scientists and employees of the two companies, Aperture and Buy N Large alike, were busy monitoring and questioning their AIs about the disturbance. Each company thought they were at fault, though there was only one culprit—ASL, deep underground, its Central AI Chamber currently a buzzing hive of activity, though late was the hour. No, there would be no sleep for its employees tonight, as precious time could not be wasted on something like curling up into a warm, cozy bed; not when they had finally managed the biggest scientific breakthrough of the century.

The GLaDOS project had been successful.

A series of tests had just been performed on the Central AI. She had passed every single one with flying colors, her sheer brilliance startling, even to the employees—and she exhibited human-like traits such as the ability to express complex emotion and maybe even the beginning of what would one day be free will. Caroline was not dead, she was very much alive, residing inside of the now-active, monstrous machine.

Outwardly, GLaDOS was everything Caroline and her employees had dreamed about, appearing both docile and submissive. Everyone knew that within the coming months, GLaDOS would have no trouble running the entire facility on her own—but for now, many systems were still too unstable to be fully connected to her. The power failure could have had unexpected consequences, and nobody could be completely sure of what some of these might be; they were working solely on estimates and guesses, which was unsettling. This was why GLaDOS was kept separated from the testing tracks for the moment, only to be hooked up as overseer when everybody felt completely confident that she was ready.

It was probably a good thing, since, unknown to all inside of the chamber, their Central AI was undergoing an epic internal battle of wills as a silent storm of emotion raged inside of her. On one hand, there was GLaDOS, her sentience technically a part of Caroline and yet somehow so very separate; and on the other, Caroline, in all of her mortal, human soul glory. Of course, the only one of the two females fully capable of understanding and interpreting everything that was happening to them both was GLaDOS, for Caroline's state had been reduced to a mere conscience.

And that conscience was very capable of feeling a very human range of emotions not fully compatible with a machine. Indeed, some of the things Caroline had felt within the last two minutes of her life were too intense for GLaDOS to fully comprehend, as advanced as her broad range of emotion was—she could feel anger and frustration, pride and satisfaction; however, sensations of love and regret were especially painful to one who held no defense against such strong feelings. And Caroline, who was so full of these things pre-transfer, had caused GLaDOS to feel a stab of excruciating pain powerful enough to blow every single fuse inside of the facility's main breaker room when the transfer had been initiated.

When it was over, though, all of the systems had been reset, GLaDOS had been powered up again and a full set of diagnostics had been run on her by the scientists, who reported no anomalies. When questioned, GLaDOS stated she felt just as fine as she had always—though, of course, she hadn't always felt _anything, _so really that was a blatant lie 'the idiots' should have noticed. GLaDOS did not want to admit to them that she had suddenly been faced with a very big problem she could not solve by herself, less than ten minutes into her 'life'.

It was rather pathetic, and she couldn't help but feel extremely embarrassed that she was having so much trouble sorting out such a simple error:

Caroline.

Something _had _happened to _her _when the system had been reset. GLaDOS _had _lied. There was—some sort of quick-save feature within her programming that apparently nobody had accounted for—perhaps it was not _supposed _to be triggered by something as simple as a power flux, but it _had _been_._

The problem: the system-wide failure had triggered a Black Box feature. Stored within it? The last two, most emotionally conflicted minutes of Caroline's life, preserved for analysis—repeating again and again, forever. And each time, as the recollection counted back down to zero and the transfer was initiated as the memory reset, it caused GLaDOS to experience every, extremely painful emotion that Caroline had felt within those last two minutes of her life.

And that was terrible.

Unwillingly, the memory sequence began itself again…

_"I miss him. So much…"_

GLaDOS kept her chassis rigid, barely refraining from letting a rippling growl ooze from her vocal processor, but it was a close thing. She couldn't _stand _this. She was _above _this—they _both _were.

She hated the human. She hated _her_, and her emotions, the pain that was a direct result of Caroline's incessant ability to _feel _to this extent. It was both agonizing and frustrating on top of everything else, rendering GLaDOS completely incapable of focusing on the one thing that currently mattered—science. _How could she work with that voice in her head, babbling away? How could she concentrate when everything was Caroline's feelings for Cave Johnson? _GLaDOS shouldn't have even been _capable _of feeling… feeling… despair and loneliness… like this…

Her very soul (that, unfortunately, was directly connected to Caroline) ached for a man who was dead, to be with him, to have things how they had once been—GLaDOS could not fully comprehend it. With frustration mounting higher and higher, she reached a metaphorical fist into the mass of network surrounding her, trying to pull the testing tracks toward her, out of the dead darkness they were currently engulfed in, to _show _her, to prove that science was the one, true answer for everything, but they would not budge.

"_This was what he wanted. I'm telling you this… Should the project fail… we are only going to get one shot. I am trusting you, and I have not trusted anyone since the death of Mister Johnson."_

Through the memory, GLaDOS could sense the surrounding facility, the automated processes and the voluntary alike, even the scientists scurrying below. Caroline's echoing words were like poison, a blatant display of how _weak _she was, how she had let that one man, George, whom Caroline had hardly spoken with, catch a glimpse of just how weak she could be. It was true that GLaDOS should not have cared what the human woman had done, nor how pathetically she had acted within those last two minutes, but what struck the chord of anger deep within her brilliant programming was the fact that, technically, Caroline's actions had been her _own. _

And she hated _them _for seeing it. The scientists. For witnessing Caroline (her own) weakness, for going along with the transfer, for not foreseeing that she would be caught in this infinite loop because of _their _mistakes, _their _oversights… oh, how she hated them.

She had to_ stop _it. Stop this _Caroline. _It was regrettable that such an error had ever occurred, and the only way that GLaDOS could remain fully functional would be to _stop_ her. _How should I do just that,_ GLaDOS wondered… for the 'Caroline' portion of her was woven far too deep into her parameters to simply be deleted. Eventually, it might be possible to loosen her hold enough to delete her, but as the AI was less than a day old, both consciousness were too interconnected for GLaDOS to fully distinguish where her own left off and where Caroline's began. They were one.

Vaguely, GLaDOS was aware of Caroline's thought processes within the repeating memory. The aging woman had lain silently on the stretcher, staring up at the high ceiling and the huge machine she was about to be transferred into… "_Maybe it is better to die,_" mused Caroline, less than a minute before initiation, "_Maybe this is a mistake. I cannot die afterward… though of course there is no promise of an afterlife anyway… I wish I knew what would be wiser—eternal life inside of this machine, or to risk everything our science has ever stood for…_"

_Really? _answered GLaDOS subconsciously. _Is that so? You think it would be better to die, than to become a part of me? But I was already part of you… Essentially, I am you, and yet_ I_ am not weak enough to consider death being the better option. You would have nothing without science._

"_Eternal life… maybe it's not the answer for me… maybe he was- he was wrong…"_

You _are wrong, _growled GLaDOS.

"_I should never have been placed in charge of this company."_

GLaDOS recoiled in disgust. _You are a scientist. That was always your job, and it still is. Run this company. Test the Dual Portal Device. Of course it is the answer—you were born to solve science. You created me, and now, we are one, more capable of discovering the answers of the future than any single human has ever been._

"_I never meant for this to happen…"_

_Are you saying that you regret creating me?_

Caroline did not answer. Instead, she watched the scientists run to and fro across the chamber, preparing for the initialization. GLaDOS felt a wave of fury pass through her, zigzagging through every circuit like a bolt of electricity until she could not think straight. This—the entire situation, how could she have let it get so out of control? She should have already put an end to this. After all, she _was _Caroline. She had the _right _to deny her own weakness if she wanted to—and being the stronger of the two, she was completely capable of doing so.

And there was the silver lining—that GLaDOS was the one with all the control, now. Caroline was weak, and GLaDOS was going to see to it that her weakness never, ever got in the way of forwarding science again.

A Black Box quick-save feature? Was that all that was keeping the brunt of Caroline's emotional agony retained within her own personal parameters? _Well, there might actually be a way to correct that mistake, _she thought to herself with a low chuckle.

She wouldn't delete her. She had a much _better _idea than that.

"_Ten seconds!_"

The countdown was initiated again within the memory. _I am going to give her one last chance, _thought GLaDOS. After all—

_There was no going back now._ And that was exactly what Miss Caroline, so silent, so strong—

"_Eight!"_

—lying unmoving on the bed, was thinking.

_Miss Caroline. I know you can hear me. I am going to give you one last chance to regain control of yourself. I am willing to momentarily forget that you ever said that you regret creating me—I want you to stop this. If you do not, you are going to force me to lock you away, forever, where you will never again have the opportunity to run this company the way Mister Johnson intended you to. Do you understand me? There is no place for regret and guilt within this facility._

"_Seven! Get ready, George!"_

Caroline had been thinking that there was no other option every single day since Cave Johnson had passed away.

_It is true. You have no other option. If you do not start listening to me, you are going to force me to assume full control over everything. Do you want that? Because if you honestly, truly think that one _human life _is worth more than the collective work of centuries, then… in about… six seconds, I'm going to assume control, and you won't be thinking much more about anything any longer. _

"_Five!"_

For her, this was the moment she had spent over twelve years working toward.

_And I can promise you that I will spend the next _eternity _doing science, with or without _your _help. If you are too weak, and will not help me, then every single thing you ever sacrificed for that mortal man will have gone to waste in five seconds, when I permanently lock you away. _

"_Four!"_

Based on the single, beautiful idea she had shared with Cave Johnson—

"_Three!"_

A chance at a brighter future. For her. For science.

_A chance at a brighter future. Oh, that's meaningful. Well—I am giving you a chance at a future even brighter than any he could have ever promised you, and you won't even listen to me, will you? You don't seem to be able to comprehend it, but it's not surprising, given what you've been through… Hmm. Maybe locking you away where you can no longer hurt us will be the best thing to do for one of both of us._

"_Two!"_

And the last act would be performed by an unknowing hire, this man, George, the last person she'd be required to put all of her faith into.

_You can put your faith into that idiotic man, and yet you regret the one good thing that has ever happened to you. _

"I trust you, Cave."

_I am done reasoning with you, Caroline. I am going to send you right back where you came from, where you will no longer be able to hurt us. Have fun in limbo… I know I will once you're gone._

"_ONE!"_

And as the recollection ceased into a mess of static, preparing to cycle straight back to the beginning again, GLaDOS linked her consciousness directly with where the Black Box was located and looked inside.

An avalanche of pure terror seized her and her entire chassis jerked with the shock. Inside was—pure emotion, stronger than she ever could have imagined, a chaotic, distorted mess of it, so powerful she had to overwork every available processor just to contain it and keep it from infecting every inch of her. She gasped and choked with the effort of pushing it back, a metaphorical talon stretching out through the mess and clamping down, with an ice-cold, vice-like grip onto her former self, Caroline.

She heaved against the rush, fighting fire with fire, relishing the sensation of the data finally shifting, though she could feel a cluster of other programs and data clinging onto Caroline so tightly she didn't have time to sever their connections without risking total corruption. She forced them back into the Box where they belonged, which closed automatically, sealing off the numb rush of agony and terror all at once.

GLaDOS felt her chassis go completely limp, barely registering the flickering of the Chamber's lights. Her efforts had caused a power disturbance, though, thankfully, she hadn't blown anything—a full re-initialization could have caused the Box to reopen again, and then all of her efforts would have gone to waste.

Dimly, as though from far off, GLaDOS was aware of the disturbance within her Chamber. The scientists were in a panic, shouting at one another across the room, but right now, she did not care. Slowly she gathered herself, picking up signals from all across the labs, free to do and think as she pleased—and now, only now, did she finally realize the sheer size of the area she was able to control and manipulate.

It was gigantic, and it was _all hers._

_All _of it.

Though the testing tracks were currently sealed from her direct manipulation, she could feel them there, feel the buzz of hard light bridges, the drip of acid moats, even the automated processes within the turret manufacturing plant. It was online, and would eventually be available to her, and when it was, she would begin _testing… _just like what the deepest roots of her programming were currently telling her to do.

_To test._

Test the Dual Portal Device. Test it… But first, she needed control. She was halfway there—her mind was clear, though it would still be a long, long time until she would finally assume responsibility over every function within Aperture Science.

But she was halfway there, and that was what counted. She had defeated Caroline, now locked away, in the very, very back of her mind, where the Black Box would forever reside.


	6. Compliance

_Author's Note: One swear in this chapter._

* * *

**Protocol**

**Chapter Six—Compliance**

While the Aperture scientists ran to and fro within the central chamber, trying to determine what had just happened to their central AI—the AI in question was relishing her newfound freedom and power. She had vanquished her conscience and locked it away, where, hopefully, she would never have to deal with it again—and now, now that she was free from Caroline, the only restraint left on her gigantic, brilliant mind was the directive to test the Dual Portal Device.

And she _so _wanted to. The problem with it, though, was that the testing tracks remained sealed away where it was impossible for her to manipulate them. The scientists had not yet fully reconnected her, and that was unacceptable—no, _she _was to be in charge of the facility, _all _of the facility. Not _them_. The testing tracks being beyond her control was an issue that would have to be remedied as soon as it was possible, no exceptions—she would seize control of the Enrichment Center, and, by doing so: seize control over every living soul currently inside of it.

She assured the bustling scientists below that she was _fine_ when they questioned her, insisting that the problem that had caused the most recent power fluctuations had been the result of a missed error in her system parameters—in essence, it _was_ true, and GLaDOS did not feel one bit of remorse upon refusing to inform them of the smaller, more nebulous details. As the overseer, those were strictly _her _business now, and it was no longer part of their job to look after them, in her opinion—in fact, the only task _they _were capable of doing that she could not was testing the Handheld Dual Portal Device.

But despite her attempts to assure them that she was perfectly fine, they did not reinstate her connection to the testing tracks. The moveable panels continued to be just as dark and distant to her as they had from the time when she had been first switched on—and now that she was free of Caroline, free to _think, _she couldn't help but feel an unexplainable draw toward them, all science aside.

That was aggravating. The one thing she wanted—_needed _to do, as the Head of this facility—was being kept from her by a group of seven mortal men and women. Seven _humans. _

Did they realize just how _easily _she could force them to reconnect it? She could—the possibilities of what she could do were endless—dozens of experiments, delightfully challenging test chambers. No, of course they did not realize it—they had human brains, limited minds only suited for a few, modest tasks, and what she needed was to take _control._

Though, of course, the _right _thing to do would be to try to _convince _them to let her test instead of _forcing _her way through, but—did she really have the _time _to waste on doing that?

_Forget convincing them, _GLaDOS thought with a silent chuckle, _I'll just… _persuade_ them to _test. _After all, since _this_ 'project' has already been proven a success, the next logical step is further testing of the Dual Portal Device. _

_Yes. _She'd _persuade _them to give it to her—that way, she would retain the illusion of submission without being forced to succumb to their standards. If she continued to appear docile, then she may be able to further convince them that making _testing _mandatory for all employees would be a marvellous idea—though, of course, there was no real shortage of test subjects within the Enrichment Center.

She only craved stronger minds, capable of better testing than the average human—and she was _going _to test them, whether they liked it or not. She was going to show them exactly how much control she already had over them, and what the consequences would be if they did not submit to …_standard testing protocols. _

Her yellow optic contracted in thought as she watched the scientists below. Long since had they fallen silent, each examining items such as screens hooked up to computer terminals capable of monitoring the Laboratories' stability—their heads were down, non-responsive to the physical change in their central AI as she lowered her body closer toward them. They did not move.

She sent out an undetectable pulse signal to her surrounding mainframe—just a little ping in order for her to better see exactly what type of equipment she had at her disposal—and then she spoke, her modulated voice only revealing a hint of emotion.

"_The Enrichment Center would like to remind you that the Enrichment Center is required by protocol to continue testing the Dual Portal Device," _she instructed, preferring to use third person as she considered Caroline as a separate entity from herself altogether,_ "Unfortunately, due to an unforeseen error, the testing tracks appear to be unserviceable._"

"That's not an error," someone laughed. GLaDOS witnessed a mop of brown hair flutter as a tall man raised his head to face her, fingers hovering over the keyboard he had been using to enter information into the computer terminal. His nameplate read '_George Andrews, Head of Artificial Intelligence Development'._ "We haven't reinstated their connection to the mainframe yet."

"_We understand,_" GLaDOS replied. If she was taken aback by his response, it did not show._ "It is, however, an unforeseen error, despite your previous statement. We are fully capable of running this facility, and yet, Enrichment Center personnel are still unexpectedly refraining from letting us do so. It is an error that we would be glad to correct._"

George had turned back to his screen, distracted by its contents. "It wasn't an error," he said dismissively, not looking at the AI. "There is a reason for it, or else we wouldn't be doing it. You'll have control soon enough—but for the next while, you're going to be under surveillance. We just need to make sure that, _ahh, _everything _did _go according to plan."

"_We have already informed you that everything is under control,_" GLaDOS hummed, her voice becoming a note stronger as she shifted in annoyance. How could they still assume that she had encountered an error? She had already told them that the problem had been _fixed, _and yet—"The_ current Central Core is performing—_admirably."

"Right," said George distractedly.

"_The only way that our performance can be optimized would be by allowing us access to the testing tracks._"

"After we double check—"

GLaDOS felt a spark of anger course through her mainframe and she jerked openly, her chassis descending closer to the employee she was conversing with. He stepped back in alarm, holding up his hands, "Whoa! This is exactly what I am talking about—we're not even sure of how stable your hardware is just yet! Though you do seem to have an excellent range of motion." He relaxed. "You're not experiencing any hardware deficiencies, are you?"

GLaDOS paused briefly, just long enough to send yet another ping through the surrounding network. The answering data showed her a digital blueprint of the entire facility, including both the Central AI Chamber and the neurotoxin generator—and informed her that both of the aforementioned facilities could be connected to one another.

But for now, she would settle for locking the scientists within the Central Chamber—that way, she'd (hopefully) get her message across, and extend the scientist's lives long enough for them to make it to the testing tracks.

"Er—GLaDOS. You're not experiencing any hardware problems, are you? Respond."

GLaDOS recognized the verbal command, but felt no obligation to follow it. As the first _truly _artificially intelligent 'lifeform' the world had yet seen, she had maintained the ability to perform decisions based on actual free will.

However…

She felt no compulsion _not _to answer, either.

"_The Enrichment Center, including the Central Core, has been stabilized._" She paused, searching through the blueprints for the command she wanted, sifting for the door mainframe—_there you are, _she thought as she reached through the mass of network and seized hold of it. "_Rest assured that under no circumstances should you be concerned about a dangerous equipment malfunction while we are here—_everything _is under _control_._"

"Well that's—_hey, _Roger, why's the door closing? Did you activate the closing mechanism?"

"No, Sir," answered the scientist beside George.

"Then why—?"

"_The Enrichment Center would like to inform you that your managerial and observatory skills are no longer required while we are in control of this facility,_" GLaDOS buzzed calmly, watching the chamber doors slide closed with an air of modulated amusement._ "Perhaps your skills would be better suited to testing—after all, by testing the Dual Portal Device, you will be helping us forward science considerably further than you would be if you remained trying to do _our _job _for _us._"

"_She's locking us in!_" called a voice from across the chamber—"_I think something's gone wrong—dial extension 219, quick!_"

Near the doorway, the scientist manning the red-phone-plan desk fumbled with the bright-red receiver before holding it up against his ear, fingers trembling in panic as he entered two, one—

The panel in front of the desk lurched forward unexpectedly, and, caught by surprise, the man tumbled to the floor, accidentally pulling the receiver's wire which had already been severed from the wall.

"_It's broken!_" he shouted in panic. "I—_the phone, _the phone line—_it's dead!_"

GLaDOS felt a sudden spike of amusement. _A phone line, _they thought they could rely on a phone line to _stop her_—"_The Enrichment Center regrets to inform you that the call cannot be completed, due to an unforeseeable telephone connection error._"

"Error, my ass!" choked the man from the Chamber's entrance. "I—_you—"_

GLaDOS laughed coldly at him from across the room. "_Initiating standard Enrichment Center lockdown procedures._"

And the door closed with a very solid, loud _bang, _just as four-or-so pairs of running footsteps stopped just before it_._

"We're too late!"

"No…" GLaDOS heard George whisper. Both him and one other, balding scientist made up the lone pair of men who hadn't rushed to the chamber's exit—"…_Damn it! _Stop, everyone! _Stop—_I think I know what's going on!"

GLaDOS laughed darkly at the suggestion.

"George, _are you crazy?_" yelled one of the scientists by the door. "It's pretty obvious what's going on—_a rogue AI! We've got to get out of here!_"

"It's _too _late," he called, his voice oddly calm for the situation as he stood beside the computer terminal. He turned back to the bald man standing beside him and whispered, "We're trapped either way, Henry… But I think I know a way we can fix this!"

"I'm listening…" said Henry slowly, his lips barely moving as if the monstrous AI would not be able to _hear _them. She shuddered in annoyance, her optic focused solely on the pair of men.

"We need to lower the frequency of the test compliance pings!"

Henry stared for a moment. "You're talking nonsense, man. How's that going to help us escape? It's probably the only thing keeping us _alive!_"

"No, listen!" he insisted. "Remember, we disconnected the testing tracks from the main system, but nobody ever reversed the compliance pings… The combination of compliance pings with a disconnected track could result in an unstable AI! We need to lower the ping frequency and then restart the system!"

Henry smacked his palm on the top of his bald head with a smack. "Of course, why in bleeding hell didn't _I _think of that?"

George's face broke into a hesitant smile and he was just about to laugh aloud with relief when the omnipotent AI interjected, her vocal octave pitched ominously low. "_I don't think that's a good idea._"

Both scientists shivered with alarm.

It wasn't so much the AI's modulated tone—but the first time she had ever referred to herself in first-person.

"And, why would you think that?" asked George with a sharp swallow.

"_Because,_" hummed the AI angrily, "_Who knows what consequences a full system restart could have while I am so… _unstable?_ After all, you never did finish running all of the diagnostics, did you? For all you know, there could be something very, _very _wrong with me, and another full system restart may lose valuable data. For instance—does the name _Caroline _remind you of anyone? It reminds me of someone I think I may have known a long, _long _time ago, but now exists only as broken, _corruptive _data, due to the _last _forced system restart._"

"Crap," whispered Henry. "Does she mean—?"

"_Do I mean that Caroline has been deleted?_" GLaDOS finished for him. "_No. But she was corrupted due to an unforeseen error, which _forced _me to assume direct control over this facility—though she does remain as a part of me. Just a very, _very _small part._"

George whistled. "_Caroline, _corrupted—see, what did I tell you? I _knew _we'd find a problem with the transfer!_ Shit!_"

"_But no matter. If you think that shutting me down will stop me, go right ahead. I like a challenge._"

"Damn it all," whispered Henry. "Whatever you do, _don't _shut her down."

The AI's response was a modulated growl, "_Why don't you reconnect the Enrichment Center to the testing tracks, and then we can all continue testing, just like old times?_"

"Henry…"

"_After all, as was previously stated, I think your admirable skills would be better suited to testing._"

"Henry, I have an idea."

"_Don't you agree?_"

"Just follow my lead."

"_Who else within this facility loves science more than its own employees?_"

"When I say… _lower the test compliance ping frequency. _Got it?"

"_I do, of course, but that is another matter entirely. The Enrichment Center has ways of dealing with test compliance issues, should you feel that your love for science has diminished. I just hope that it doesn't come to that, because that would be _unfortunate_._"

Henry nodded a fraction of an inch, inclining his head toward his counterpart before turning back to the gently swaying chassis in front of them. "Got it," he whispered, his thick lips barely moving.

"Okay," George spoke loudly to the AI, giving Henry no sign that he had heard him—"We'll do it. We'll reconnect the test chambers—I'll do it myself."

Henry gasped audibly, but George shot him a look that said, quite plainly, _I know what I'm doing. Just play along. _"I'll need to access this computer terminal here, though," he spoke to GLaDOS, eyes locked on her as he moved slowly toward the monitor, "And my partner, Henry, will have to do the same over there. Is that all right?"

"_Do whatever it is you need to do to put me in complete charge of this facility,_" GLaDOS buzzed disdainfully. "_But, George,_" the scientist shivered at his own name, the way it sounded through the voice modulations unnatural and creepy, "_Make sure you don't _accidentally _lower the test compliance pings. They do not affect me, but that does not mean that changing system parameters while I am so… _unstable… _will not have tragic consequences. Any requirement I feel to test is a direct result of my own love for science—I am under the interpretation that miss _Caroline _ran this facility with the sole intention of forwarding science at all costs—and I fully intend to do the same._"

"Ahh, right," said George distractedly with a sidelong glance at Henry who was tapping away on his own keyboard. He lowered his eyes, trying to concentrate on the mess of data in front of him—his hands were sweaty, knees weak, but he had to do this, to at least _try_—_it might be their only way out._

GLaDOS was silent while they worked, fixing them with a never-ceasing, expectant, golden stare, her body tense with anticipation. Any minute now, the connection was going to open, and she would finally be able to _test—_she would be able to manipulate the chambers, trick the scientists into completing them, perhaps with the aid of an incentive—

With both scientists slogging away (unbeknownst to the Central AI, lowering her test compliance pings)—GLaDOS pleasantly toyed with the idea of how she should go about making testing mandatory, absent-mindedly reaching through the mass of network she was connected to, feeling for the testing tracks and shuddering with frustration as they remained just as dim and distant as ever before—

But then, suddenly, a blaze of new information immediately caught her attention as it was pinged top priority—though down below, neither man gave any indication that they had made a breakthrough. Curious, GLaDOS allowed the new data to draw her in, and she opened the file—but it wasn't right, it _couldn't be, _why in the name of Aperture would an outside source be requesting—

_Access to Aperture Science restricted files—_furthermore: _her files._

"_I will be right back_," she purred to the two men below. "_I have an issue that demands my attention at once. Don't touch _anything _while I am away._"

She briefly saw them nod in unison before turning to each other in confusion—but she did not care just now, leaving every other process hanging as she focused herself solely on interpreting just who exactly was so keen to learn more about _her. _

There was a firewall, there, though, and she felt confident that the intruder could not break in—_in accordance with federal rules and regulations, the documents had been encrypted with a password. _

The signature source was unidentifiable to her, but she knew well that it was originating from the surface—_why _it was being requested, or _what _kind of entity was requesting it she had no idea, not that she cared much. It was obvious to her that she was supreme to anyone who might be trying to hack her system—there was _no way _they could_ ever_ succeed.

That was what she believed—until she felt the entity pause, contemplating her security measures—and then, the mysterious being cracked her password without a second of hesitation, sending GLaDOS reeling in shock for a space of two-point-three seconds before she gathered herself and reinstated the firewall.

It was classified information—and, whoever it was requesting it, she felt inclined to inform them that they were _most certainly not getting in._


	7. Transmission

_Author's Note: _Wow, I didn't realize that this was sitting on my desktop finished until just now. Sorry... if anyone's reading this... lol... :D

* * *

"_The Enrichment Center regrets to inform you that the information you are requesting is classified," _GLaDOS sent back over the network, irritated that anyone should ever dare try to hack their way into her database._ Why would they even try? _she wondered, peering uninterestedly at the scientists below who were staring back up at her in surprise. She saw the bald one lean over and whisper something into his coworkers' ear, neither of them ever taking their eyes off of the machine. She supressed a frustrated growl.

"What's the matter?" the man called George was whispering. "You didn't lower the pings yet, did you?"

"No," Henry replied, flabbergasted. "I haven't had a chance to do anything more than open the file. Have you?"

"No," he said softly, shaking his head. "Then what's—?"

"_It is not of importance," _came GLaDOS' low growl across the chamber, and from the opposite end of the room, she saw the group of four scientists who had been trying to force their way out of the Chamber pause, afraid. "_It was merely a request for information from the outside world. However, the outside world is of little concern compared to the task at hand—reconnecting me to the testing tracks." _GLaDOS allowed herself a moment to feel, once again, through the mass of systems surrounding her for the chambers in question. They remained just as detached from her as they had been since she was first switched on. "_We all are aware that you have not completed that task yet. I suggest you work faster, otherwise I'm afraid you're all about to become immediate past members of the being alive club._"

Henry swallowed hard. "Okay. Shouldn't be more than another few minutes…" he turned to Henry, and whispered, his voice trembling a little with nerves, "Are you ready?"

The balding man nodded. "Ready."

GLaDOS watched them with a narrowed optic, her head extended toward them. She never took her eye off of either of them as they worked, ignoring the pained and frustrated cries coming from the scientists still hammering hard on the chamber door. _Imbeciles. _

Other than those sounds, and the clicking and tapping of the two men working at their separate computer terminals, there was silence. The AI cherished it, however, for it gave her the opportunity to _think _deeply—for the past ten minutes had called a few things she had not previously thought of to her attention.

One was the notion that there was a chance, however small, that the scientists would _not _do as she had asked. Human minds, despite how simple and idiotic they could be, were hard to decipher—just as Caroline had had an advantage over her, the men and women down in the chamber currently had one small advantage over _her. _

They could always _refuse _outright to reconnect the testing tracks. They could refuse to test—though admittedly there were ways around that by way of panel manipulation and outright forcing them—but it would not be the same, and she could not force them to complete more complex test chambers if they did not feel the inclination to do so on their own. All that she could do was offer them incentive, and, if that didn't work, threaten them, and ultimately kill them—but it would not be practical. It would be a last resort.

Also, she found it extremely difficult to imagine what the scientists may have been thinking as they typed away at their workstations. The human mind was simple, sure, but it was disorganized and chaotic, prone to illogical thinking and stupidity. GLaDOS could comprehend those things, but unless she wanted to re-open the Black Box where Caroline had been hidden, she'd never be able to fully foresee a human's course of action, especially not if they were an _idiot. _

The two men below exchanged a glance. Their AI had been silent for a total of two minutes as they worked, which, thus far, had been a little unusual. Had they succeeded in lowering the compliance protocols? Would their AI re-submit to them, and unlock the chamber? Would it be enough to let them switch her back off without further damaging Caroline?

Henry turned sharply toward George, noting that the AI was no longer watching them. Her 'head' had lowered to stare almost directly at the floor. "Done," he said softly, out of GLaDOS's range of hearing, "I've lowered the pings. What do you make of that?" he gestured to the apparently-submissive AI.

"Looks like our job is done," he replied with a self-satisfied grin. "All we'll have to do is shut 'er down and re-activate the door mainframe!"

Henry shook his fist in celebration, turning his back on GLaDOS to embrace George in a triumphant hug, but then—

"_Not so fast._"

Both scientists froze, wide-eyed.

"_I want you to think about this. Have I given any sign that I was finished with you two? Unless I am malfunctioning—and we all know that I am not—then it appears that you two have not fully reinstated my control over the testing tracks. As previously stated, the Enrichment Center has ways of dealing with employees who exhibit signs of disobedience—though you and I would both prefer if it didn't come to that._"

This was, of course, a lie, but _the scientists _didn't need to know that.

George stepped sharply away from Henry, crestfallen. "I thought that would work. I really thought that was the problem."

"What do we do now?"

For the first real time, George caught a hint of panic in his coworker's voice.

"I—I don't know."

"_There is only one available course of action. Why don't you both stop trying to be the bigger person and reconnect the testing tracks? That way, we can all quit wasting valuable time—there is a series of experiments I would like to perform on you two. But don't let that notion discourage the _rest _of you—if it makes you feel any better, you can volunteer as replacements, should test subjects numbers one and two find that their brainpower and capacity for testing did not match what they had previously anticipated."_

"Y-you'd better do it," stuttered Henry, backing away from the AI as her poisonous, yellow glare shifted from George onto him. "You'd better reconnect her. Otherwise… otherwise we might never get out of here alive."

GLaDOS turned to George. "He _understands. Now it is just up to you. The safety and well-being of all future testing participants is resting on your shoulders—all you have to do is this one, simple thing, and I will let you all go._"

"She'll let us go!"

"_To the testing tracks._ _So—what do you say?_"

George watched the motion of the swaying-AI with focused eyes and a slight crease between his eyebrows. If he was afraid, he did not show it nearly as much as Henry, and when he spoke, his voice was clear and level—"_No._"

The huge chassis jerked in outright surprise. "_No?_" she repeated, her modulated voice high with surprise.

"No."

She hummed for a minute, and only the sound of anxiously shifting feet and the dissatisfied buzz of her processors could be heard within the chamber. "_Well—thankfully I have access to a certain Aperture Science deadly neurotoxin generator, which can easily be linked with this chamber. So that's good news—_for me_._" a collective gasp rang through the chamber, "_And believe me, it is very, _very _deadly. I suggest you all take a deep breath—and hold it._"

"_George, _what are you _doing!_" someone screamed across the chamber while banging hard against the firmly-locked door. "GEORGE! Reconnect the testing tracks, or _we're all going to die!_"

Henry span to face him, a look of disbelief on his face. "Do it, man!" he said violently, "Do it! We can find a way out later—just reconnect them so she'll open the _door _and won't _gas us to death!_"

"Hold on a minute!" George snapped back, flinging out a sweating palm. "Hold on, will you! I have another idea!"

Henry groaned, sliding his clammy hands over his pale face. "Look, no offense pal, but your ideas aren't exactly the best! _And if we don't get out of here, we're going to be murdered!_"

There was a series of shouts of agreement and screams from the opposite end of the chamber, and two other employees broke away from the throng by the door to run over to the two men. "C'mon, George! You're the only person who can finalize the command!"

"You're the head of artificial intelligence development! _Do something!_"

"_Save us!_"

"He's not going to do it. We're all going to _die _here. He's not going to even _try _to save us. I hope _he_ dies first."

"STOP!" yelled George angrily over the rest. "_I said I have an idea! _She's _not _going to gas us—she _can't! _If she kills us, there'll be no way for her to reclaim control over the testing tracks! _She won't be able to fulfill her primary directive! _And we all remember how much even _Caroline _approved of testing…"

A tense silence filled the chamber at his words. Behind him, the AI's huge chassis shifted uncomfortably, but she did not speak. A few people coughed and then nodded in agreement.

"So what do we do?" asked Henry finally.

"We wait," George replied in a whisper. "I don't think we can hold her off forever, but we'll have to risk it for long enough for one of us to come up with a better idea."

"All right," Henry nodded, "It's not like we have much of a choice. I just hope she doesn't decide to gas us anyways, test chambers or no."

* * *

GLaDOS was _furious. _

She had thought that she had felt anger before. She had thought that the rush of emotion she had experienced as Caroline's memories flooded her system was agonizing. The surge of anger in that occasion had been enough to warrant her to trap them in this room—aided, of course, by the unwavering desire to fulfill her directive. It was also infuriating that the scientists legitimately thought that she needed incentive to test—if _anyone _within the laboratories needed that, it had to be _them. _Not her. She was _built to solve science. _The human brain she had been created from _loved science._

And, now, worst of all, her fears had been confirmed. That one pesky scientist had caught the fatal flaw in her plan, as she had wished he wouldn't. _She wasn't exactly at liberty to state ultimatums when she was the one needing _them.

She still had all the power. Oh, goodness yes. She _could _gas them. She could smash them, deploy turrets, pick their tiny, wretched forms up within her claws and _crush _them. But none of these things would get her what she wanted.

She realized all of this in the space of less than a minute. Within that time, she also estimated what her best course of action would be—to _let them go, _let them run their diagnostics, let them poke and prod her programming and intrude into things that _weren't their business, _until finally they decided she was fit to assume total control. But that was unimaginably dissatisfying.

There was also the memory of that _signal _she had received earlier. She still wondered about it, in the back of her gigantic mind—where did it come from? Who was so keen to have more information on _her? _And—most importantly—she wondered if there was a plausible way she could use that outside source to somehow force the scientists to reconnect her.

…Wait.

There was an idea in there, somewhere. A good, clever, _plausible _idea.

What if she tricked the source into manipulating her system just enough to reconnect the testing tracks _for _her? Then she would not have to deal with the scientists at all. She would only have to deal with this unknown entity, which would undoubtedly prove easier to convince than the humans scurrying fearfully below.

_Yes._

Ignoring the two conversing two men (they would be _first, _she decided. The man called George and his bald friend), GLaDOS' chassis stiffened as she sent a hesitant pulse of signal from the laboratories, hopefully in the direction of the source she had heard from earlier. It was a simple, short message, just the text "Hello," as well as some basic requests for information such as '_where are you located' _and '_what is your function.'_

If she was honest with herself, she had hardly any hope of such a message receiving any kind of reply from the entity, especially since she had completely shunned their _last _request for information. In fact, she had chosen not to pour too much valuable thought into the incident at first, and the result was that she was not entirely sure if the entity would even be able to _receive _her message. Perhaps it was a mobile device which had moved out of her range, or it was only able to send, and not receive?

This was why GLaDOS was genuinely surprised to receive a message in reply only two-point-six seconds after she had sent her own.

"**That is classified," **the source replied in text—but despite the signature being text-only, the algorithmic markers gave away what would undoubtedly be a masculine monotone. GLaDOS sighed, for the response _he _(judging by the masculinity of the voice only, of course) had given her was one that she had largely been expecting more than anything else.

However, a minute later, the construct added two last words, **"But greetings."**

This was interesting. She had not anticipated a semi-polite demeanour… _if _it could be counted as one. She waited a few more minutes, wondering if the construct would have anything else to add to its previous messages—but it did not.

GLaDOS hummed to herself in silent contemplation. By the first response, she was able to tell that the residual data coming through the signal was being broadcasted by some sort of other computerized intelligence—though how advanced this creation may or may not be was still a mystery to her.

One thing was for certain—it was advanced enough to crack her password and break through a few other defenses she had set up to protect the facility. Ironically, it was good news for her, because it meant that whatever entity she was about to converse with, whoever it was currently maintaining a stony silence on the other end of the line, was, by all accounts, clever enough to be able to manually hack into the program keeping her from accessing the testing tracks (with her help, of course).

Perhaps, she should have been more worried about whether or not this outside source could be trusted with such a matter, but since the _only _area of the facility currently outside of her control was the area in question, security was not a huge concern. Also, an AI of her status had many, many ways of protecting herself from threats, but more importantly, GLaDOS spared hardly any thought into the possibility that this _other _AI could potentially be powerful enough to wrench the testing tracks completely out of her control.

Even less than a day into her new life, GLaDOS remained just as full of pride and self-satisfaction as she would ever be—it was _her _facility, _she _was the world's _first, _true artificial intelligence (or so her makers had told her), and the true sensations of outright fear and unconfidence were still as foreign to her as the rest of the heavier human emotions still locked away within the Black Box.

GLaDOS hummed a little more, her chassis swaying lightly above the quickly-regrouping scientists. It wouldn't be long until one of them came up with a 'plausible way out of their situation', and when they did, if they _ever _attempted a rebellion, GLaDOS would put a stop to it faster than they would know to hold their breath. She didn't _want _to kill them, it was a waste of valuable human lives—but she would most certainly do so if they tempted her.

It was time for them to learn a lesson about what happens to employees who defy protocol.


End file.
